


A Prince and his King

by Ghoulish_Disgrace



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Distance, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor bloodplay I guess, Parent/Child Incest, Reunion Sex, porn with some semblance of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghoulish_Disgrace/pseuds/Ghoulish_Disgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is in Imladris and missing home; a visitor arrives in the night to provide exactly the comfort he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prince and his King

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that got real slashy real fast. Whoopsies. Enjoy!

Legolas sat on the side of the bed, swinging his legs back and forth, head bowed slightly and hands drumming on the cool sheets at his sides. Well housed and fed, he had little reason for such tenseness as he felt, and yet here in the house of Lord Elrond Half-Elven, he was restless and of an unquiet mind. The halls of this place were splendid, and little if any fault was to be found in the song and food and company. Yet there were things that it did not have. Things unique to the stunning halls of Mirkwood, with its green life and twined wood. Here there were no wild forests in which to hunt, no free woods through which he could roam. His bow and quiver without use lay in the corner, and the elven prince longed for the comforts of home. 

Twenty seven days and twenty six nights it had been now. Long had been the journey to Imladris, and yet longer seemed this time of parting from familiar lands. He'd come here not by choice, but as his father reluctantly reminded him, a prince ought to be well-versed in the elven lore and knowledge of the lands; no place was as lush with such knowledge as Rivendell, and so it was there he departed to learn what Lord Elrond could teach. Two months' time it would be before he returned home, two months before he would again know the scent of trees and the feel of earth beneath his nimble step. Before he would lie and rest in his own chambers, under familiar stars- in the arms of the one for whom his heart longed most. 

The truest pain of his departure was parting from Thranduil, and no matter the joys and pleasant intricacies of Imladris, each night when all study and feasting and conference was done, Legolas sat in lonely discontentment. He needed his father, his king, his lover. 

Thranduil had managed to set trivial affairs in capable hands for a time and travel half the distance to Imladris with his son, but their parting when it came was sorrowful and bereft of beauty. Their hands joined weakly at their sides and their bodies were close. Words spoke of closeness when they left his father's lips as he turned homewards, but soon Legolas was alone. 

And despite the company of the learned and friendly hosts of Rivendell, he felt the void of his father's absence in full. Here though dusk crept down on the remnants of day, he knew his Adar was awake and likely well-occupied with the day's royal callings.  
_How often does his mind drift to thoughts of me,_ wondered the prince in the quiet of early night. He certainly couldn't keep the King from his own thoughts, despite all efforts. His adar, with his silken-silver hair that lay in splendor upon his shoulders, his eyes that could be stern and frigid but also soft and welcoming in moments of tenderness. How the prince's fëa ached for a moment, if only that, to hold and be held in--

Legolas jumped, startled out of thought by a knock at the door of his bedchambers. He instinctively brought his arm back into to the air, as to retrieve an arrow from a quiver, though he quickly remembered where he was; he sighed and began towards the door. 

"Lord Legolas, I do apologize for disturbing your rest," the soft voice of Lindir, minstrel of Elrond, spoke from outside. "but I do believe you'll want to come out a moment." 

Curious as to what could warrant his attentions at such a late hour, Legolas stepped to the door, opening it just enough to peer out into the dimly lit hall. 

It did not take more than the faint illumination, however, to accentuate the regal form of the other elf just feet from the threshold. 

"Adar.." The prince's voice barely more than a whisper, he stood motionless, rendered still for a moment in disbelieving joy. A smile broke across his face, color springing to pallid cheeks. He saw his father's eyes were underscored with dark circles, the distance evidently had taken a similar toll on the King. Nonetheless, a smile, too, lit his countenance with gladness at the sight of his son. 

"You may leave us, if you will, Lindir." Legolas spoke, eyes still not wavering from where they'd met his fathers'. 

The minstrel's footsteps had barely faded before Thranduil bade himself entrance to the room, crossing the threshold and snatching Legolas in a possessive embrace, throwing his arms around to hold the back of the prince's head. 

In speaking, his voice was slightly hoarse, as though tear-shed had rendered it fragile.

"Never again shall I let you out of my sight for such time, ion," 

Their lips met in a clumsy kiss, not soft or gentle, but full of desperation, of longing. Tales of lonely, needful nights in the absence of one another's touch played out as the king's tongue pushed against his son's lips, the two pulling their bodies close, as though making up for hours lost. Thranduil willed the prince further into the room, and pressed his body against the wall, slowly grinding his hips into those of his son, as to assure the increasingly noticeable bulge between Legolas' thighs was right against his own. He trailed his hands down to the younger elf's wrists, pulling them above his head, held against the wall by the King's fierce but careful grasp. He continued to ravish the prince's mouth, sliding his jaw down ever slightly to nip at his bottom lip. 

"a-ada," Legolas moaned gratefully, pushing his hips out instinctively, gaining friction against his father's robes. Thranduil brought one hand down to his son's lower back, sliding lower until it slipped under the fabric of his leggings. He bit less gently upon the lips offered to him, until he could taste a familiar metallic sweetness. He lapped at the new-made wound, drawing in the taste of Legolas' blood, that which the two elves shared. That blood wrote the secrecy that pervaded their love, the same blood which bound them rendered their bond forbidden. Neither king nor prince was offset by this truth however; if laying with one's kin was truly as sinful as others spoke, then each would sooner die in sin than live without the closeness of the other's touch. 

Blood, thus, was spilt, and Thranduil lapped it away greedily from his son's mouth. The hand still holding the prince's wrists kept him securely against the wall, at the mercy of his touch. Legolas shuddered, whimpering softly into the ministrations. He adored such treatment, his father the only he would permit to hold such control, to do as he wished with him. Days spent outside his adar's embrace, without his rough and possessive touch, were days wasted. 

Thranduil's hand slipped lower at the cleft of his bottom, lingering with the slightest pressure, tracing circles around his tight entrance. Legolas' breathing was heavy, no longer holding a trace of the measuredness royalty had instilled in him. 

"adar, please. I beg of you." 

"Adar, please, what?" The King replied in what would have passed for bemusement if not for the toll his own need had taken on his composure. 

The prince drew his head back, though still only inches away from his father's face; he looked up into the piercing blue eyes that so mirrored his own, and let the simple plea fall from his lips,

"Take me, ada." 

The King didn't need any further prompting. He guided Legolas back through the room, where the two collapsed to the bed. Thranduil hurriedly disrobed his son, tugging the tunic over his head and pulling at the ties of his leggings until the prince was entirely exposed. He straddled Legolas' hips, sitting atop the younger elf, still dressed in all the kingly decorum in which he'd arrived. Thranduil knew how his son loved to be teased and toyed with while he wore these, still. Crown fixed in his hair and clothed in intricate, fine-woven robes, Legolas adored to see his father, his beautiful father, in all his splendor. 

Thranduil leaned in and began to stroke slowly at the younger elf's arousal, wrapping his fingers lazily around and bringing his hand up, down, at no particular pace. Legolas moaned, aching for more. 

"You are going to please your King greatly tonight, iôn-nîn." He half-whispered, pressing his own erection, hidden only by the increasingly inefficient barrier of his leggings, against the prince's bottom. He leaned further, kissed seductively at Legolas' neck. The younger elf now writhing needfully beneath him, Thranduil sucked at the skin, leaving red-blue bruises, marking him as his own. His hand stroked faster, thumb flitting playfully at the head of his son's cock, eliciting more moans from the elf. 

"please-" a single syllable all Legolas could muster, his eyes half-lidded in lust. 

Thranduil shifted off his son a moment, pausing in his attentions. He slid from the confines his regal robes, pulling at the ties of his own leggings and casting them undutifully to the floor, until the two were at last, entirely naked in one another's arms. 

The contact of skin on skin was electrifying, and both elves' breath grew hot and ragged, each for the moment forgetting all else but the form of the other's body. Thranduil sat up, parting the prince's legs around his hips. He fumbled with something outside Legolas' view, and after a moment, a finger, coated in oil to ease his way, pressed against the younger elf's entrance. 

"Yes- ada-"

Thranduil grinned, sliding the finger barely inside, toying with the ring of muscle. He brought his palm to stroke his own arousal as he pleasured his son. 

He slowly pushed the finger further, sliding into the tight passage. Legolas sighed in pleasure, after having spent nearly a month devoid of his father's touch, the feeling of being filled again was almost more than the elven prince could bear. 

"Thank you, ada-- please, more-" 

Thranduil gladly obliged, adding a second digit, stretching his son's passage, scissoring the two slightly; he felt the elf begin to writhe on his fingers, pushing for more contact. He continued, sliding the fingers, now to the knuckle, into his son's entrance, a task which grew easier by the minute, Legolas' wanton movements hastening the motions as father prepared him. He added a third finger, and with the shift in position, he brushed across the sensitive spot inside his son. 

Legolas cried out, his father's name on his lips, no longer caring who heard. The reaction brought jolts of pleasure to Thranduil's own erection, which was now hard under his touch and the sight of his son, naked and impaled on his fingers. He flitted his fingertips against the bundle of nerves again, then more, pumping the digits easily, Legolas meeting his every movement. 

"Please, adar. I cannot take much more-"

Thranduil, understanding, gave a few final thrusts of his fingers before easing them out. He pulled himself inwards, gaining leverage and closing the gap between their bodies. 

"What is it you want, my beloved prince?" The King asked, rubbing his arousal against Legolas' entrance. 

"I want, I _need_ you to fuck me, ada." 

"With pleasure." 

Thranduil guided the tip of his cock to its destination, then thrusted forward in a single motion, filling the prince. Legolas moaned, for even the unrelenting work of his adar's fingers could not fully prepare him for the the impressive fullness of this penetration. 

Slowly again, he pulled back and repeated the motion, building up in smaller thrusts before again filling his son entirely. Legolas brought a hand up to grip Thranduil's thigh, encouraging the attack on his pulsing chamber, digging his nails into his father's skin. 

"You feel so wonderful, iôn," Thranduil breathed, thrusting forward once more. 

Legolas threw his head back, eyes glinting in ecstasy and adoration. "I am always glad to please my king." 

The two established a pace, and soon Thranduil easily moved inside his son, the prince's hips rising and falling to meet his thrusts. Legolas' throbbing arousal longed for attention, brought closer to the edge as Thranduil brushed repeatedly against his prostate. The King too, felt his need threaten to overtake him. He brought his hand down to grip Legolas' cock, tugging haphazardly up his length, while burying his own within the prince. 

_"Ada--"_

Legolas came in spurts on his stomach and over his father's fist, jerking his hips upwards, eyes shut and muscles clenching as pleasure overtook him. Thranduil's release came seconds later, brought to completion watching Legolas' climax. He pushed forward a final time, spilling his seed deep into his son. 

Their breath, wild and rapid, was all that broke the silence in the seconds thereafter; Thranduil the first to recover his senses climbed over gently to lay beside Legolas. He turned to his side and cupped the elf's face in his hands, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his forehead-not of passion or enticement- but a kiss, reassuring the exhausted prince of his love. Legolas nuzzled into his adar's body, bringing his leg around to hold him close and letting his head softly down onto Thranduil's chest. The two sat in silence, wrapped around one another, letting their breaths slow, simply reveling in the closeness. Thranduil listened as Legolas' breathing grew even, the elf's chest rising and falling under his arms; a slow smile crept at the corners of Thranduil's mouth as he, too, fell into the soundest sleep he'd had in a long while. 


End file.
